


Maybe I'm the Asshole

by ProgramasaurusRex



Category: Silicon Valley (TV)
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-08
Updated: 2016-12-14
Packaged: 2018-09-07 06:06:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8786509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProgramasaurusRex/pseuds/ProgramasaurusRex
Summary: Mid-To Build a Better Beta. Dinesh has a realization.





	1. Chapter 1

A lightbulb went off in Dinesh's mind.

"Gilfoyle?" said Dinesh, intercepting his friend in the hallway.

"Yeah?" said Gilfoyle, turning around.

Dinesh said nothing, only motioning.

Gilfoyle followed Dinesh into Dinesh's bedroom.

Dinesh said, "How do you know Tara was having sex with other guys?" he asked.

"A friend told me. I wasn't sure, so I located her on the god mode, saw her at her old fuck buddy's house, confronted her, and she admitted it," said Gilfoyle calmly.

"What are you going to do now?" Dinesh asked.

"I don't know," said Gilfoyle warily. "Why do you ask?"

They sat down on Dinesh's bed, angled toward one another. Dinesh was having intense difficulty opening his mouth. He studied Gilfoyle, trying to communicate his intentions telepathically, willing Gilfoyle to take the lead as he usually did. But Gilfoyle seemed content to let him sweat, patient but smug, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

"That sucks. I'm sorry, dude," said Dinesh finally.

Gilfoyle looked suspicious. "I don't need your pity."

"No, I know," said Dinesh. "It's just ... you're pretty good about being there for me when I'm upset. I figured you deserved the same."

Gilfoyle tensed up. "What are you talking about?" he said. "I'm a complete asshole to you when you're upset."

"Well ..." said Dinesh. "You're still there, though. You just sort of show up behind me and start talking me through my problems. It's ... kind of nice really. I don't like to admit weakness; I'd never have the balls to come to you for help, so you come to me. But ... you've been miserable all week and I barely noticed. So maybe ... I'm the asshole."

The corners of Gilfoyle's mouth turned up. "Why the sudden interest in my emotional welfare?"

Dinesh sat quietly, trying to keep his composure, anger fighting sadness. His reflexes told him to argue with Gilfoyle. But he felt a sudden desperation to make his desires known, a desperation that engulfed all shame like the sea would a submarine. So, suppressing the alarm bells in his mind, he spoke the truth.

"Well," said Dinesh, his features clouding over, "I finally had to admit you were right. I don't have any friends. If you want to know the God's honest truth, I'm lonely as fuck. I guess I've always thought that was out of my control, like there was something wrong with me inside. But maybe what's wrong with me is ... I'm not a good friend to others. I only think about myself."

"Agreed," said Gilfoyle. "What's your point?"

"I want to be a good friend to you," he said, dropping the words like strings of glass beads, so softly that Gilfoyle leaned in to hear him better. "I want us to be ... good friends ... with each other. I feel like ... we've always sort of understood each other, you and me, but there's something wrong between us. We're always trying to hurt each other."

"Have you not heard anything I've been saying to you this week?" said Gilfoyle. "I don't trust you. I don't trust anyone. That's what stands between us."

Gilfoyle stood up.

Dinesh looked up at him, punctured. "Gilfoyle, don't you ever feel ... don't you ever wish ..."

Gilfoyle turned towards the door, hiding his face from Dinesh.

"You're pathetic," he said, and left.


	2. Two

Dinesh was mortified. Somehow he'd allowed himself to fantasize a world in which he smoothly offered his friend a kind gesture, Gilfoyle appreciated his concern, and the two of them grew closer. Even worse, he'd actually tried to put this poorly conceived plan into action, embarrassing himself thoroughly in the process.

Of course, Dinesh was never smooth. That shouldn't have mattered, though. Gilfoyle knew him; Gilfoyle had always seen through him. Even when he managed to keep his words even and his shoulders straight and his story coherent, it never made any difference. Inevitably, Gilfoyle did the piercing eye thing and Dinesh gave up and admitted what his game was.

So if Gilfoyle hadn't been phased by Dinesh's stumbling delivery, it must have been the actual message that put him off. This was odd though, because Dinesh had fancied he knew Gilfoyle well enough to know when he was upset. Gilfoyle himself had basically told Richard that he was bothered by Tara lying about sleeping with other men. Had Dinesh misread the situation? Dinesh frequently misread situations, of course; he had an insane rate of self doubt. But no, this one seemed plain enough.

It seemed more likely that, although genuinely unhappy, Gilfoyle did not want to talk about his unhappiness, at least not with Dinesh. And that realization hurt a lot. Gilfoyle had always talked pretty tough, but he was still human. Moreover, he'd admitted only a few days ago that he didn't really have any other friends to talk to. So why didn't he want to talk to Dinesh? Was Dinesh so horrible that a person with nowhere else to turn should still react with outright hostility when Dinesh offered him sympathy?

Okay, so Dinesh and Gilfoyle weren't close, not the way some friends were. Dinesh could remember when Bighead had lived in the house, and he and Richard had referred to themselves unabashedly as best friends; they even had a matching pair of t-shirts that they'd gotten on vacation once in Panama City. Of course he and Gilfoyle had never acted like that, because it wasn't in their natures. But godfuckingdamnit, Dinesh had felt something toward Gilfoyle. Something north of annoyance but south of affection, a simultaneous comfort and discomfort when Gilfoyle entered the room. But warm, definitely warm. He wondered what Gilfoyle felt when Dinesh entered the room.

Could it be that he didn't feel he knew Dinesh well enough to open up to him? But Dinesh had told him all sorts of things about his life, about growing up in Pakistan, about college, all the little stories and struggles he experienced from day to day. At first it was merely because Gilfoyle was the only one who'd showed much interest in Dinesh. Underneath all the insults, Dinesh couldn't help but secretly worship his incredibly badass coworker; having Gilfoyle's attention felt great. As much as he made fun of Dinesh, they'd always known where the line was. He'd also discovered long ago that Gilfoyle could keep a secret.

A few weeks after Dinesh had moved into the house, he'd just gotten out of a very unsuccessful app pitch.

"How'd it go?" Gilfoyle had asked him in the lobby.

"Terrible," said Dinesh. "I got so nervous I forgot to make eye contact."

"It's not easy being on the spectrum," Gilfoyle had said.

Dinesh had jumped about a foot. How had he known?

If Gilfoyle hadn't been sure before, he was now. "You are, aren't you?" he'd said.

"Yeah," Dinesh had admitted, bracing himself for a dozen different Asperger's Syndrome jokes. "Is it that obvious?"

Gilfoyle's eyes had met Dinesh's. "I was just being a dick. Half the Valley is on the spectrum," Gilfoyle had said.

Dinesh had looked up and Gilfoyle, filled with gratitude.

"You messed up your presentation because you can't talk to save your life," Gilfoyle had told him.

He'd waited for Gilfoyle to tell the rest of the house, but he'd never said another word about it in front of anybody else. So all of the sudden, Dinesh had someone he could talk to about his worries that he'd said the wrong thing in this or that situation because he was a defective human being. Other secrets had followed. There had been something strangely soothing in their private conversations: he knew Gilfoyle was going to call him an idiot no matter what he did, so Dinesh was free to say whatever he liked. His steps always felt lighter on the way back to his room from Gilfoyle's.

As Dinesh had realized tonight, he had been incredibly selfish not to put any effort into giving Gilfoyle anything in return. Not that he knew what Gilfoyle wanted in the way of friendship; the man was careful not to show vulnerabilities. Still, in three years, Dinesh should have learned something about being a good friend to his best friend. Maybe Gilfoyle wasn't comfortable being seen as weak, to the point where any open display of empathy would have upset him. Maybe he'd hurt Dinesh's pride on purpose to scare him away. But Dinesh wished he could offer some form of friendship. He felt so helpless and rejected right now. 

Also, who knew how much damage he had done to their relationship with that one conversation? It was entirely possible that he'd screwed up so badly that Gilfoyle would never want to be friends with him again, even in the limited way they'd been friends before. A panic seized Dinesh. He had no backup plan for Gilfoyle suddenly turning cold toward him. Even if he managed to make other friends, they had to work closely together every day. This could make tomorrow uncomfortable. He drifted off into an uneasy sleep, worrying about the next day.


	3. Three

The next morning, he ran into Gilfoyle at breakfast, because the house wasn't that big. Dinesh ate in silence and tried not to look at Gilfoyle. Gilfoyle didn't say anything to him, either. 

After breakfast, Dinesh sat down and opened the list of bugs. It seemed like everything was priority one today; it astounded him that they were even thinking of releasing a software platform any time soon. He selected a bug he thought he could take care of easily and got to work. For a few hours, he forgot about Gilfoyle.

Soon enough, Gilfoyle came over to ask him a question.

"Ever see a duplicate submit button on the login page?" he asked evenly.

"Yeah," said Dinesh, surprised at how easily the words came out, "right before the last login attempt. It's on the list with a screenshot, but we've got bigger stuff to deal with right now."

"Okay, as long as it's documented," said Gilfoyle.

Right before he walked back to his desk, he casually patted Dinesh on the shoulder. Dinesh turned around at his touch, but Gilfoyle was already gone.

Dinesh wasn't sure how to feel about this. He was glad Gilfoyle wasn't angry anymore, but then, he hadn't expected Gilfoyle to stray too far from professional behavior, not in front of the whole house. So what was the gesture trying to convey?

The day ran long. The programmers ate lunch at their desks and kept working. Around eight in the evening, Richard finally got up and went to heat up some dinner. By custom, they ate as a group and the meal signaled the end of the work day.

Gilfoyle sat next to Dinesh as usual. It was getting difficult to pretend like something wasn't off. Richard and Jared were talking about business stuff, and Dinesh wasn't following any of it; there was nothing to distract him from his problems. Gilfoyle glanced at Dinesh and seemed to pick up on his agitation. He shot Dinesh a look that was hard to read.

After dinner, Gilfoyle followed Dinesh back to his room.

"So I take it you're not too happy with me about what I said last night," said Gilfoyle when the door was closed.

Dinesh picked up his elbow in his hand, breathing in and out, afraid to speak.

Again, Gilfoyle touched him on the shoulder. "It's okay," he said gently. "You're not in trouble."

Dinesh looked up. "But you said ..." He thought about all the things Gilfoyle had said.

"I hurt your feelings," said Gilfoyle, but the words seemed oddly free of sarcasm.

For half a second, Dinesh considered denying it, but there was something faintly ridiculous about the prospect of lying to Gilfoyle about anything. He nodded, ashamed but relieved at the same time.

Gilfoyle seemed to pull him in with his eyes. "I was a little harsher than I needed to be. I only intended to make myself clear."

"That we're not ..." said Dinesh.

"No, we are," said Gilfoyle. Something like wine or sunlight streamed through Dinesh. "Or at least ... you're allowed to want that, Dinesh. It's a normal thing to want. I'm the abnormal person in this friendship."

"How's that?" asked Dinesh.

"You weren't imagining things," said Gilfoyle. "You and I are friends. You talk to me about your feelings sometimes, and I was upset about Tara yesterday. Naturally, you thought I would want to talk about that with you. The problem is, I'm so paranoid I don't want to talk to anyone. That's not a reflection of you at all. It's my issue."

"But," said Dinesh, "why are we friends at all if you want nothing from me?"

"You see friendship in a very cynical way," said Gilfoyle. "I like having your company. You don't need to give me anything else."

Dinesh found this hard to believe. People always wanted something in return for being your friend. In primary school, he'd once given another child his shoes in an attempt to buy his friendship, unsuccessfully as it turned out. In college, he'd helped his classmates with homework and driven them around. It seemed impossible that someone simply wanted him as a person.

"Why did you bring up Tara the other day if you didn't want to talk about it?" he asked.

"I don't know," said Gilfoyle. "It just slipped out. Then when I realized what I'd said, I panicked. I prefer to unpack my feelings in private for the most part."

"I can respect that," said Dinesh.

"Good, I'd appreciate it," said Gilfoyle. "Maybe someday I'll feel differently, but for now ..."

"You're fine how you are," said Dinesh. "I mean, I must get on your nerves with all my bitching ..."

"Not really, no," Gilfoyle assured him. "I like ... knowing you."

Dinesh gazed at Gilfoyle, eyes full of contraband sentiment. "Well, if you ever need anything ..."

Gilfoyle smiled. "You'll be the first person I come to."


End file.
